


The Retirement

by spoonsoftea



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Post-Canon, Technically canon-compliant, post-DH
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 17:06:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4271166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spoonsoftea/pseuds/spoonsoftea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Headmistress Minerva McGonagall decides to retire eight years after the end of the war, but she doesn't plan to remain idle. That spark in her eye can only mean one thing - McGonagall has an idea, and she won't rest until she sees it through.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Retirement

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sort of headcanon of mine of things that happen after the war. It's McGonagall-centric because she's my fave. Also, I cheerfully stole a line from Downton Abbey. Aaaand I was messing around with style and formatting, so it's pared down and told in increments of 100 words. Because why not?

Five years after the end of the war, Headmistress Minerva McGonagall had an idea.

‘What’s that?’ Sprout asked, pointing her fork at the small card in Minerva’s hand.

‘An invite to a wedding,’ the headmistress replied distractedly.

*

‘I have a plan,’ Minerva announced one afternoon to the mostly empty staffroom, and Professor Sprout looked up from the stack of essays she had been grading.

‘Alright, then,’ she said amiably. ‘Are you going to tell me what it is?’

Minerva stood frowning in the doorway. ‘No,’ she said after a moment.

Sprout nodded and returned to her essays.

*

Two weeks later, Sprout was up to her elbows in dragon dung when Minerva opened the door of Greenhouse Three and poked her head inside.

‘You’re an academic, right?’ she asked, peering sternly at Sprout over her glasses.

Sprout considered that while she wiped sweat from her brow with her shoulder. ‘I suppose I am, yes.’

Minerva gave her a look of approval and withdrew her head.

*

‘I feel old,’ Sprout remarked at the final Quidditch game of the season, watching her Hufflepuff players jump wildly over each other, their captain clutching the Quidditch Cup. 

Minerva appraised Sprout silently for a long moment. 

Beside her, Flitwick sighed mournfully. ‘So do I,’ he lamented, his gaze straying to the stack of broomsticks at the edge of the pitch.

‘Hm,’ said Minerva, and cast a speculative glance at him as well.

*

At the end of Slughorn’s (second) retirement party, Sprout handed Minerva a glass of elf-made wine. ‘Will you miss him?’ she asked, grinning.

‘With all my heart,’ Minerva replied.

Sprout laughed. ‘I wonder what he’ll do now,’ she wondered.

Minerva pursed her lips. ‘So do I.’

*

In the middle of the summer, Pomona opened the door of her cottage and found Minerva on the doorstep. ‘Come in,’ she said, and stepped aside.

Minerva removed her light summer cloak and laid in on the back of the couch. ‘I’m going to Finland for two weeks,’ she said. ‘Would you like to come?’

‘Why?’ Sprout asked.

‘A conference on post-secondary wizarding education,’ Minerva replied promptly. ‘It’s four days long.’

Sprout thought for a moment. ‘Alright,’ she decided.

*

At the Welcoming Feast on the first of September, Minerva introduced Professor Lara Westenberg as the new Potions teacher. 

Sprout leaned over to Minerva in the middle of dinner. ‘She’s different.’

Minerva glanced at the new addition to staff. ‘Different is good.’

*

‘How long have we been friends?’ Minerva asked Sprout one evening, as they observed the new first- and second-year intramural Quidditch teams. 

Sprout took a moment to think. ‘Fifty-four years.’

‘Have you ever gotten tired of me?’ Minerva asked with her eyes on the Quidditch pitch.

Sprout waited until Minerva met her gaze. ‘Not once.’

*

‘Why is Septima swearing at that roll of parchment?’ Flitwick asked Minerva one Saturday afternoon in the staffroom.

Minerva glanced up. ‘It’s the school budget.’

Sprout raised her eyebrows. ‘Since when does Septima handle the school budget?’ she asked, but Minerva handed her an order form for Snargaluff plants and ignored the question.

*

Sprout sent young Abernathy out of her office and waited for the click of approaching heels to pause outside her door before opening it with a wave of her wand. 

Minerva did not appear surprised. ‘Filius is a close friend, right?’ she asked briskly, adjusting her glasses.

Pomona’s eyes narrowed. ‘Yes. Why?’

‘No reason,’ Minerva said dismissively, and swept away.

*

During a thunderstorm in early November, Sprout accidentally interrupted Minerva and Flitwick’s discussion of his old Charms research. 

‘I do miss it,’ Flitwick said a little wistfully, and Sprout noticed a gleam in Minerva’s eyes.

*

Six years after the end of the war, Minerva invited Sprout and Flitwick into her private rooms and sat them down on the couch. 

‘I have finished the plan,’ she told them. Flitwick furrowed his brow in confusion, but Sprout understood.

‘That took a while,’ she remarked, and Minerva nodded seriously.

‘In two years,’ she said, ‘I am going to retire.’

There was a moment of silence. ‘Are you really?’ Flitwick squeaked.

‘Yes,’ said Minerva firmly. ‘And I want you both to come with me.’

*

Minerva kept her distance from Sprout and Flitwick for two weeks. Rumours spread among the staff.

‘What does it matter?’ Westenberg asked one afternoon. ‘It’s just gossip.’

‘You like gossip,’ Sinistra commented.

‘I like secrets,’ Westenberg corrected her with a grin.

‘Maybe someone’s getting fired,’ Winfield Chan worried.

*

‘I’ve decided,’ Sprout told Minerva on the fifteenth day.

Minerva looked up from her desk. ‘Ah,’ she said, over the faked snores of the portraits.

Sprout glanced out of Minerva’s window. Greenhouse Four was just visible. She squared her shoulders. ‘I want to join you.’

Minerva nodded solemnly, but her eyes were dancing. ‘I’m very glad.’

‘What about Filius?’ Sprout asked, sinking into a chair across Minerva’s desk.

Minerva grinned. ‘He told me yes six days ago.’

*

Sprout beamed as she watched Neville Longbottom rotate slowly in the greenhouse. ‘Well?’

‘Fantastic,’ he grinned.

‘Just the first- and second-years for the first two years,’ Sprout reminded him. ‘You’ll take over completely once I leave.’

‘I still can’t believe it,’ Longbottom said with a shake of his head.

*

Sprout bit back laughter as Minerva complained and gestured wildly enough to spill a few drops of tea. 

‘He’s been downright unbearable since I announced the news,’ Minerva griped.

‘You can’t really blame him,’ Sprout said, amused. ‘There have hardly been any Slytherin headmasters. He might even cooperate with Septima.’

‘For her sake, I hope he does,’ Minerva muttered. ‘I thought Phineas couldn’t get any more intolerable, but smugness does not become him.’

Sprout laughed.

*

‘Who’ll take over Head of Ravenclaw?’ Flitwick asked Minerva as he and Sprout perused the paperwork Minerva had laid out.

‘Westenberg,’ Minerva replied. ‘I think she’ll be excellent.’

‘And Hufflepuff?’ Sprout wanted to know.

‘Winfield,’ Minerva answered, taking a sip of tea. ‘I know he’s a bit quiet, but Hufflepuff might do him good. Of course,’ she added as an afterthought, ‘Septima will have a good deal of input. She’ll be responsible for hiring a new Arithmancy teacher.’

‘I suppose you want Longbottom for Gryffindor Head in a few years?’ Sprout said slyly, and Minerva threw a biscuit at her.

*

As she raised her hand to knock, Sprout overheard the tail end of a conversation in Minerva’s office.

‘I expect you to do great things for Hogwarts,’ Minerva was saying firmly. ‘Don’t be afraid to start something new here. It’s part of why I hired you.’

‘I won’t let you or Hogwarts down, Professor,’ Longbottom said resolutely, and Sprout smiled.

*

‘Why next year?’ Sprout asked Minerva near the end of term. 

Minerva was silent for a long moment. ‘It will be my fiftieth year at Hogwarts,’ she said finally.

‘You’re getting sentimental in your old age,’ Sprout teased, and Minerva rolled her eyes and smiled.

*

‘Congratulations,’ Minerva said to Potter and Weasley, as Sprout waved at the baby in Minerva’s arms. ‘What will you name him?’

Potter and Weasley exchanged a look. ‘James Sirius Potter.’

Minerva was quiet for a moment. ‘Your father would be proud.’

‘We hear you’re retiring, Professor,’ Weasley said, changing the subject.

‘I am, though I won’t ask how you heard,’ Minerva frowned. ‘Hogwarts needs new blood.’

‘You’ve already done a lot,’ Potter said. ‘You’re all really leaving?’

Sprout spoke when Minerva failed to answer. ‘We are. But don’t worry. We won’t go far.’

*

The summer before their last year at the school, Minerva, Sprout, and Flitwick took a trip to an old, empty manor in the Highlands. 

‘There’s old greenhouse in the back,’ Minerva said as they stared up at the building. ‘It has four wings and attached house-elves’ quarters.’

‘Has the final word on funding come through yet?’ Flitwick asked, craning his neck.

Minerva shook her head. The three of them looked at the house for a long moment. 

Sprout sighed. ‘I suppose we’ll have to wait and see.’

*

Longbottom came to see Sprout one Thursday evening, looking uncharacteristically nervous. ‘I have an idea for a club,’ he said, ‘and I want to ask the Headmistress about it.’

‘Alright,’ Sprout replied cheerfully.

Longbottom hesitated. ‘I want to make sure it’s good first.’

‘I have every confidence,’ Sprout said, ‘that you have the students’ best interests at heart.’

‘I do,’ Longbottom said firmly.

‘Then you have nothing to fear.’

*

Sprout opened the door to Flitwick’s study and saw his rear end protruding from a stack of boxes in the corner of the room. ‘Filius?’

A box tipped precariously and scattered sheaves of parchment across the floor. Flitwick’s buttocks shifted slightly in the mess.

‘I cannot for the life of me,’ the diminutive professor shouted hysterically, ‘find my Charms Mastery Certificate!’

*

‘Alright,’ Minerva declared, ‘the time has come.’

‘That sounds ominous,’ Sprout smirked. ‘The time for what?’

‘For us to decide whether or not to owl Horace,’ Minerva replied gravely.

Flitwick giggled. ‘Ominous indeed.’

*

Professor Chan entered the staffroom carrying a sealed letter. ‘Where’s Minerva?’ he asked the room at large.

‘She had an early meeting with the governors; why?’ asked Deputy Vector.

‘The owl post dropped this off at breakfast,’ Chan said. ‘It’s from the Department of Education.’

Flitwick and Sprout both leapt to their feet. ‘Hand it here!’ Sprout demanded eagerly.

‘What’s going on?’ came Minerva’s voice. Sprout flapped the letter wildly in her face. Minerva’s eyes widened and she tore it open, eyes skimming the parchment rapidly.

‘Well?’ asked Flitwick nervously.

Minerva looked up and beamed. ‘Our funding has been approved!’

*

‘There are a lot of rumours going around,’ Kingsley Shacklebolt told Minerva. Sprout gathered up her parchments from Minerva’s desk and tried not to listen too obviously.

Minerva sounded unconcerned. ‘Are there?’

‘You’re retiring, for one,’ the minister pointed out. ‘It was in the Prophet yesterday. You surprised a lot of people.’

‘You know me, Kingsley,’ Minerva said demurely, ‘a woman of mystery if ever there was one.’

Sprout held back her laughter until she reached the safety of the corridor.

*

In December, Minerva went with her staff to the Three Broomsticks to celebrate her fifty years at Hogwarts and drank three glasses of Firewhiskey.

‘To Minerva!’ Westenberg called, holding her drink aloft. 

‘And to Hogwarts!’ added Chan, who was red in the face.

‘Teaching for fifty years,’ said Longbottom reverentially, while Sprout pretended not to hear. ‘What will you do after you retire?’

Minerva did her best to make sure no one was listening. ‘I’m an academic at heart,’ she said seriously, clutching her glass, ‘but a teacher first and foremost.’

*

Sprout recognized Slughorn’s owl when it landed in front of Minerva one Friday morning in March. She waited impatiently until Minerva had read the letter. ‘Well?’

Minerva folded the letter and set it next to her plate. She turned to Sprout and raised her eyebrows. ‘He’s in.’

*

At the Leaving Feast, Minerva blinked rapidly when the students got to their feet and applauded with hollers and whistles. ‘Thank you,’ she said. She gave them a sharp look. ‘Be good for Professor Sinistra.’

Everyone laughed. Minerva, Sprout, and Flitwick spent the rest of dinner in silence.

*

Minerva emerged into the circular office for the last time and glanced up at an ornate golden frame. Its occupant beamed at her, tears trickling down its cheeks.

‘You will visit, won’t you?’ asked the portrait of Albus Dumbledore, and Minerva nodded and blew her nose.

*

In late June, the three retired professors spent one night in the empty, partially-restored manor and debated by wandlight. 

‘Thistle Grange,’ Minerva said.

‘Ambleside,’ suggested Flitwick.

‘Crowfoot Place,’ Sprout contributed.

‘Hawksbeard Heights,’ Minerva tried.

‘Magia Manor,’ Flitwick said.

‘Hogwarts Two,’ Sprout declared, and they fell about laughing and opened a new bottle of wine.

*

Sprout, Flitwick, and Slughorn received identical letters from Minerva at the end of July. In their own kitchens, they read the words aloud.

‘It’s ready.’

*

Minerva, Sprout, and Flitwick stood side by side as they gazed up at the fruit of their labours. 

‘I didn’t think it could be done,’ said Flitwick in a hushed voice.

‘I can’t believe it,’ Sprout whispered.

Minerva could only nod. 

Silently, they all read the sign above the door of the large, restored manor in the Highlands: Wyrdstow Research School for Apprentices of Transfiguration, Herbology, Charms, and Potions.

*

Sprout and Flitwick Apparated to Minerva’s cottage in early August, both carrying copies of the Daily Prophet. Minerva answered the door holding her own.

They sat down in her sitting room and read the full-page article in hushed silence.

Minerva broke the quiet. ‘Accepting applicants for September,’ she read aloud.

*

Minerva came down for breakfast one snowy morning, already dressed and desperate for a cup of tea.

‘Morning, Professor,’ the two Potions apprentices greeted her, both reading the Prophet. 

‘You two are up early,’ Minerva remarked, accepting a plate of toast from a house-elf.

‘Master Slughorn is taking us to St. Mungo’s today,’ Jane told her. ‘A patient agreed to talk to us about the effects of the Bloodroot Potion.’

Minerva raised her eyebrows as two of her own apprentices entered, still in their nightclothes and yawning. ‘The early phoenix catches the flobberworm,’ she said dryly, but she was smiling.

*

After a weekend tour of Wyrdstow with former students and old Order members, Minerva gathered everyone in the kitchen for lunch.

‘It’s incredible,’ Kingsley said. ‘I can’t believe you all managed it.’

Sprout shrugged. ‘We’re just pleased there’s finally an option for students to continue their education in Britain. Neville had to go all the way to Germany for his Herbology mastery.’

‘But how did you get the idea?’ Ginny Potter asked. 

Minerva looked at her and smiled wickedly. ‘From your wedding invitation,’ she said. ‘I decided that I would never again suffer through another generation of Potters and Weasleys.’

*

Later that evening, Minerva, Sprout, and Flitwick shared a pot of tea in the kitchen, listening to their apprentices play Exploding Snap in the library. 

‘Was it true, Minerva?’ Sprout asked. ‘What you said to Ginny?’

‘That I got the idea from their wedding invitation?’ Minerva said, while Flitwick laughed. ‘Absolutely. James Potter and Weasley twin genes in one child? No bloody way.’

‘And that led to all of this,’ Sprout said wonderingly.

*

Four years after Minerva McGonagall’s retirement from Hogwarts, Wyrdstow Research School granted masteries to nine apprentices: three in Transfiguration, two in Potions, two in Herbology, and two in Charms. 

The four masters of the school spent the following summer sorting through four hundred and thirty applications from all corners of the world (although three of the masters claimed that the fourth – a certain nameless Potions professor – was hardly any help with this at all).

The founder of the school always accredited her inspiration for its creation to Harry, Ginny, and James Sirius Potter, although she never quite made clear why.


End file.
